


Lace and Lust

by Meraad



Series: Sorrows and Delights - Blackwall/Cadash [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Minor Angst, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27356416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meraad/pseuds/Meraad
Summary: Blackwall once told Rija Cadash he wanted her in nothing but stockings and a garter. She obliges him.
Relationships: Blackwall/Cadash (Dragon Age), Blackwall/Female Cadash (Dragon Age), Blackwall/Female Inquisitor
Series: Sorrows and Delights - Blackwall/Cadash [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1020543
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Lace and Lust

Rija pressed her hand to her stomach, trying to quell the roiling she felt. “This was a mistake,” she breathed out, catching sight of her reflection in the long mirror. She was going to make an absolute fool of herself. A single candle lit the small storage closet and the dark kohl around her eyes made her look more like a raccoon than seductress. 

She regretted ever opening her mouth to Josephine when they had been in Orlais. Walking past a boutique, Rija had hesitated, struck for a moment by the mannequin in the display window. Delicate lace and silken straps, Rija had recalled Blackwall’s words at the Winter Palace, his desire to fuck her while she wore nothing but silk stockings and a garter belt.

Josephine had lit up, dragged her inside, and helped her pick out the perfect outfit, promising to bring any man to his knees. At the moment, Rija had been excited, thrilled by the entire thing. But now, as she stared at her reflection, she felt foolish.

“Rija, love?” His voice called from her room, where he waited for her, sitting in a chair near the fire, a dark scarf covering his eyes. “Everything alright?” he asked and she pressed her lips into a line.

Blackwall loved her. She’d yet to figure out why, but she knew that he did. He loved her body. He told her that often. Every time he touched her, Ancestors, he practically said it every time he looked at her. 

“Yeah,” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “Yes, just… you still have the blindfold on right?”

“I do,” he called back and she straightened her spine, set her shoulders back, and tried to find the confidence that she’d felt when she’d first tried the dark blue lacy teddy on. Drawing open the door, she peaked her head around the corner to look at Blackwall.

True to his word, he still wore the blindfold, though he had shifted in the chair. He leaned back, legs stretched out, a lazily relaxed pose. Firelight lit him from behind, casting most of his features in shadow. “Rija?” he asked, his head turning toward her at the sound of the door creaking open. 

“I bought you something,” she said, padding silently across the cold wooden floorboards until she reached the edge of the plush rug. He perked up at that, sat up a bit more, leaned forward, one elbow on his knee.

“Bought me something?” he questioned, she saw his brows lift behind the bit of cloth 

Rija hummed quietly and then she reached out and took his hand in hers, felt the rasp of calloused fingers. “I did,” she told him, stepping closer. A quiet voice in the back of her mind reminding her that he adored her.

“Do I get to see my gift?” He squeezed her hand, tugged, drawing her closer.

“Not yet,” she told him. Rija took his other hand and stepped between his spread knees. “I… I feel a little bit silly,” she admitted, ducking her head down to brush her lips against his. He kissed her back, sucked her lower lip into his mouth, and gently bit down on it.

“Tell me why.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time-”

Blackwall’s brow furrowed again. “A tattoo? A piercing?” He made a quiet rumbling sound in his throat that made heat build in her belly. “I have a few ideas of what you could get pierced.” 

Heat turned her cheeks pink and she bit down on his lower lip. “Stop that. No, nothing so… long-lasting.” 

Blackwall groaned. “You’re killing me, my love. Either give me a proper hint or let me see.” 

“It is something I got while in Orlais,” she told him then brought his hands closer and rested them on her hips. His fingers flexed, squeezed, rubbed against the delicate lace. Blackwall’s head cocked to the side, slid up, slowly, stopping just below Rija’s breasts. Her breath caught in her throat and she waited for what he’d do next. But then his hands shifted, making their way down her sides, over her hips, where his fingers found the bare skin at the top of her thighs, down a bit lower, he groaned.

“Maker, preserve me, Rija,” he traced his fingertips along the top edge of the stockings. “Love.” His voice came out a rasp, and then his hands slid around to cup her half-covered bottom. He squeezed and pulled her closer. “Not one single thing about you wearing lacy underthings is remotely silly. Fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t seen me yet,” she said quietly, that twist of nerves starting up in her belly again. 

One of Blackwall’s hands slid around to her back, found the back to be non-existent, and skimmed his fingertips up her spine to slide into her hair where he wrapped it around his fist and dragged her face close to his until their foreheads touched. “I can tell you, honestly, you’re beautiful, stunning, drop-dead gorgeous. Do you want to know how I know that?” he asked, his voice going husky.

“How?”

“Because I know you. Because I’ve seen you, love. I’ve seen you wearing your pretty dresses. I’ve seen you dirty and disheveled after a battle. I’ve watched you fall exhausted into bed wearing nothing but one of my shirts.” He kissed a trail along her jaw to her ear. “Because I have seen you in the throes of pleasure and I  _ know _ you. And you are the most fucking beautiful person I’ve ever been so lucky to be with.” 

Tears filled Rija’s eyes and she felt almost as if her heart had been torn wide open in her chest. The sincerity he said it with, she knew he believed it. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. “Fuck,” her voice came out a rasp and she lightly slapped his shoulder. “Asshole, you’re going to ruin my makeup, and I spent way too much time on it.” Rija sniffled and Blackwall reached up, ripping away the blindfold to meet her gaze.

The dark makeup around her eyes made that crystalline blue-grey of her left eye seem all the more depthless. The right on the other hand, while masterfully created, lacked that same depth. “Love,” he breathed, cupping her face, thumbs catching the tears that fell onto her cheeks.

“I hate you,” she muttered, but the words held no heat as she leaned into his touch.

He smiled, gaze soft. “S’okay,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against her lips. “I love you enough for the both of us.”

Her breath hitched and she hit his shoulder again. “Stop it, I can’t-” Rija twisted away from him, threw her arms out to the sides, and huffed. “You’re just supposed to want to fuck me.” He’d started calling her love not long after they had returned from the Winter Palace and she had tried to pretend it meant nothing to either of them. Just a pet name for him. 

Blackwall’s gaze traveled slowly, from her eyes, down over every inch, every curve. “Maker’s breath, woman, I do want to do that.” Delicate dark blue lace hugged her breasts and torso and down to her hips. He found himself wondering how much give it had if he’d be able to tug aside the crotch when he put his mouth on her. Bits of ribbon led down to where they clipped onto the thin silk stockings that were the same dark blue as the outfit.

Pushing up to his feet, he closed the distance between them. “And more,” he breathed, making a slow circle around her. Her curls hung midway down her back, and the lingerie was completely open in the back, cutting down low to start just at the curve of her rump. “Fuck,” it came out a rasp. 

“What?” Rija turned her head, her brows drawing together. 

_ Every day for the rest of my life isn’t long enough _ , he thought, and for a sad, bitter moment, he knew he wouldn’t even get that long. “Come here,” he said instead, taking her hand, he drew her back to the chair in front of the fire and nudged her into it before sinking to his knees in front of her. Then he was kissing her, claiming her mouth with a deep kiss. He’d be sure that by morning Rija would never doubt, not even for an instant, how fucking perfect she was to him.

How many times would he have to remind her that she was the embodiment of beauty to him? As many times as it took to be sure she knew. He wished he could track down her family, the previous lovers who made her think less of herself and beat them all within an inch of their lives. Blackwall slid his hands up her sides, where he cupped the heavy weight of a breast in each, his thumbs rubbing over her pebbled nipples. He would never get enough of her, he thought, hearing Rija’s breathy moan. 

He kissed along her throat and breathed in the scent of her skin. A soft floral note with her usual leather, smoke, and beeswax.  _ Orleasian soap _ , he thought, and for a beat, he was twenty years old again, cocky, without a clue how to properly please a woman. Lifting his head, he looked at Rija and saw the desire written all over her face. And he was grateful for every lesson he’d ever learned about pleasing a lover.

“Blackwall?” she breathed out his name because that was who he was now.

Ducking his head without a word, Blackwall wrapped his lips around one of her nipples. “Oh!” Rija let out a quiet cry as she tangled her fingers in his hair. He laved at the puckered flesh, then sucked, enjoying the contrast of texture between her skin and the lace. Nuzzling his way over to the other breast, he rubbed his nose along the curve of her breast, and then gently sunk his teeth into her other nipple. 

“Fuck!” Rija shouted, hands tightening in his hair, she shoved her breast against his mouth and her hips began to rock faintly against his stomach where he settled between her thighs. Dropping one hand down to that strip of bare skin between her hip and the top of that silk stocking. Maker’s balls, those stockings would be the death of him.

“You’ll wear these, all the time,” he rasped against her breast, drawing back to watch as he traced a fingertip along the top edge, feeling both skin and silk. Then he looked up to her face, Rija’s skin was flushed, lips parted, her eyes wide as she stared up at him. He’d buy her more stockings. In every color, he could find. “Under every dress,” he told her because he knew how she preferred her pretty dresses when she wasn’t out on the battlefield. 

Rija’s tongue flicked out over her lower lip and she nodded. “Okay,” it was a breathy sound that had his cock going even more rigid in his trousers. Groaning he cupped the back of her head and kissed her hard, his tongue sliding between her parted lips. He slid his other hand from the stocking up, feeling along the garter to where it met the lacy fabric that teased him. Letting him see her every curve, but hiding her skin, her scars, her stretch marks. 

Blackwall dipped his thumb beneath the fabric at the crease of her thigh and mentally did a little jig, feeling it give enough that he knew he’d easily be able to tug the crotch of the fabric away and lick her, fuck her. It was something they had both discovered they found particularly erotic. Quick couplings, with just enough clothing, pulled aside to find their pleasure. Letting out another groan he shifted his hand felt the top of her curls. Every color, he silently vowed. Red, black. Something brighter, maybe gold. Breaking the kiss he let his beard scrape over her throat and felt the quiet vibration of her moan as she arched her back. 

Nuzzling either breast, he went down lower, stroked his hands over her thighs, spreading them wider to make way for his shoulders, glancing up, he met her heavy-lidded gaze and nuzzled the damp fabric that covered her slit. “Maker, have mercy,” he breathed, and then licked over the fabric. Rija made a quiet sound and leaned back in the chair, one of her hands coming down to cover one of his own where it still rested against her thigh, while the other slid into his hair and gave it a slight tug.

The sound Blackwall made was nearly a growl as he lowered his head once more and this time he used his free hand to push aside the fabric and lapped his tongue up between her lower lips, again and again, pushing just barely at her opening and up to her clit, where he lingered each time. He ignored the throbbing press of his erection against his breeches and suckled Rija’s clit between his lips until she cried out, her thighs jerking against his hold, but he didn’t let up, her juices soaked his beard and he couldn’t get enough of her. 

Another sharp tug at his hair and Rija bucked so hard he nearly lost his hold on her. His need for her reached a breaking point. Blackwall lifted his head, yanked down one side of the neckline of lace, and latched onto her breast as he drew her legs around his waist and stood. She clung to him, panting his name against his ear as she squirmed in his arms. “I need you, please, please, Blackwall,” her voice was sex dipped in honey and Maker knew, he’d give her anything she asked. 

Tossing her onto the bed, she landed with a bounce and looked up at him as he yanked his shirt over his head and then yanked at his belt. He still had his damn boots on and he cursed softly. Rija’s lips curved slightly, all that nervousness seeming to disappear in the thick fog of lust that hung in the room now. She lay back on the bed, one hand rising to cup the breast he’d exposed, her nipple still damp from his mouth, while she lowered her other hand to her spread legs, and covered the dark wet fabric there. “Ancestors,” she murmured, “the things you can do with that tongue of yours.” 

Blackwall shoved his trousers down, yanked off his boots and his cock bounced against his belly, hard and aching. “Just wait till you see what I can do with my cock,” he told her, one hand curling around the base, he gave it one firm stroke as he reached for her ankle with the other. Bracing a knee on the edge of the bed, he tugged at her foot, dragging her closer. “On your knees, love.” He wanted to fuck her every way imaginable that night. His need to be pressed close, their chest slick with sweat, their hearts beating in rhythm as he pounded into her, filled her until she was claimed, was his. 

Rija twisted on the bed, drawing up onto her knees, her shoulders against the mattress, her face turned to look at him over. Blackwall hesitated a moment, afraid his desperation might make him too rough. “Please, my love,” she murmured and Blackwall swallowed hard, his chest splitting wide open. “Inside me, I want you-” her breath hitched and he grabbed hold of her hips and looked down to see her fingers there, stroking her clit.

“Fuck,” he said, his voice low and drawn out. Then he guided his erection to her opening, rubbed it through the wetness, spreading it coating his cock with it. “Maker-” 

Then Rija pressed her hands flat on the bed and shoved back against him, impaling herself on his cock, drawing shouts from both of them. His hold on her hips was so tight he knew he’d leave bruises, but when she clenched her inner walls around him, he abandoned all thought and reason and withdrew almost fully before slamming his hips forward. 

Her fingers curled in the thick duvet as she braced against his almost violent thrusts. And she relished in every second of it. Throwing her head back she let him have control over their movements, yanking her rump back against his hips as he pounded into her. The only sound in the room was their panting breaths and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. “Yes!” Rija was close, so close that she teetered on the edge. But if she shifted her hand down to her clit, gave herself that final push, it would shift her whole body, and ruin the blissful drive of his cock inside her.

“Blackwall, Blackwall-” she panted, desperate for that nudge. But then he was pulling out of her, and her mind reeled. No, no, she’d been so close! But he manhandled her, flipping her onto her back, and she let him position her. Tugging her legs up, so that they were flush against his chest as he pushed into her again. Rija shuddered. He was already big for her, but now he felt huge inside her with her thighs pressed shut and he took up that pace again, fast and hard thrusts and she gripped the blanket beneath her, desperate for something to dig her nails into as he quickly had her at that edge again. 

But now she could look up at him, see his eyes, watch him watching her. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, one still free, the other covered by the lace. Rija held his gaze and released her hold on the blanket, knowing he’d hold her exactly where he wanted her. She tugged at the fabric, freeing her other breast, and then she held them, cupping and kneading, catching her pebbled nipples between her knuckles and squeezing. 

Blackwall’s eyes darkened and he rubbed his cheek against her calf, not once breaking his steady rhythm. “Oh,” she breathed, her back arching, because she was so close again, and the way he watched her so intently, was a pleasure all on its own. He moved so quickly, she barely processed it before he was leaning over her, his mouth latching firmly onto one nipple as he held her legs hooked over his forearms at the knee. His cock felt even deeper like this, and it was as if there was a string straight from the nipple that he suckled to her clit because that edge that Rija had been teetering on for what felt like hours vanished in a rush of rapture.

Rija wrapped her arms around him, her nails biting into his shoulders, as she made a sound of primal pleasure. Blackwall’s thrust grew rougher, more erratic, and hypersensitive, she felt each pulse of his cock as he spilled his release inside her. “Fuck,” he breathed against her breath. “Fuck,” his voice was ragged and he continued rocking his hips against her. “Again,” he released his hold on one of her legs, pushed his hand between them, and circled her clit. “Again, fuck, Rija, come for me again.” 

Who was she to disobey? Her thighs jerked against his sides, holding him tighter as that delicious pleasure rolled through her again. Stop, don’t stop, her mind reeled, and then his mouth was against her ear, whispering in a voice like gravel how hot and wet she felt around his cock. How her soft curves made him ache. And Rija was utterly lost.

It could have been years later when she sighed, her cheek against his chest as she lay stretched out over him, a blanket haphazardly dragged up over them. He’d stripped her out of the lacy garment and stockings and now held her, his fingers stroking over her tangle of curls. Lifting her head she rested her chin on the back of her hand where it lay over his heart, he looked down at her, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Welcome back,” he murmured and she smiled drowsily.

“Warden Blackwall,” she murmured, then her brows drew together. “I love you,” she told him, terrified and so certain at the same time. An expression crossed his features so quickly that she didn’t have a chance to process it. “I wish-” she drew in a breath. “I wish you’d never joined the Wardens. I wish that I’d met you before… before all of this.” Because being a Warden was a death sentence. And maybe, maybe if they’d met years earlier, she could have saved him from it, and he could have saved her from herself.

“Rija-” he stared down at her, the sincerity in her voice, he struggled to breathe past the lump that had formed in his throat. Tell her, he thought. She’d forgive him the lie. Wouldn’t she?  _ I’m not really a Warden. I never joined. I’ve committed horrific crimes, but, please, please, still love me. _ But instead, he brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I love you, too.” 

She smiled a little, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned into his touch before she rested her cheek back against his bare chest. “I know you do. I know.” 


End file.
